Consequences
by Lancelotlaureate
Summary: Dorian Gray finds himself confronting all kinds of ghosts of the past when he meets a young carer at a nursing home. (The Confessions of Dorian Gray story with an appearance from Captain Jack Harkness from Doctor Who/Torchwood)


"You've been distracting me again," I said as I attempted to do the buttons up on my shirt, my sweaty fingers fumbling to fasten them. "It's getting late."

It wasn't _that_ late but I'd been with Captain Jack all day and it was time to get moving- well moving in a different way at least. He was grinning at me from the bed, not making a single attempt to get dressed. I'd already put on my shirt and my trousers but he was still lying there, wrapped up in the blanket like he was posing for some erotic portrait.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?"

"Hey, the day is gone, can't see why I gotta bother to put clothes on now."

I laughed. "Of course, I forgot. You'd go around like that all the time if you could."

"You'd love that." Jack winked and then pulled me in for a quick kiss. "Don't act like you're not one for attention, Dorian Gray. I've known you long enough to know that you and I aint so different."

Captain Jack Harkness and I had been…acquaintances for decades and we met every so often when we both were in London and we…well, we spent time together- mostly indoors at a hotel, but on occasion we ventured to the pictures, the theatre or for drinks at some club in Soho. I can't remember the exact location or time of when we first met. I know it was the 1950's and I remember he stood out like a sore thumb. If I recall, we bumped into each other quite literally, knocking drinks flying over each other in some bar in a run-of-the-mill part of town I can't picture. He flashed his best smile and hoped I'd fall for it. It didn't work. That came much later. At first, he was too…how should I say it…American beefcake?

As time passed and we saw more of each other, superficially at first, we eventually started to learn more and more about one another and inevitably that's when we realised that there was a lot _lot_ more we could learn! From the outside we both seem normal but we were anything but. We both live on, keep going when everyone around us diminishes and weakens with each breath. It was quite strange really, meeting another man who knew just some of what it was like being long-lasting. We'd even lived through most of the same time periods. The funniest thing was how exactly we'd come to learn we shared more than just a bed. Dying together kind of brings about the 'big talk' and those three little words you never found yourself saying: 'You're still alive?'

The day we 'died' had been like any other ordinary day. We woke up, had sex, had breakfast and then decided as the day was beautiful, to take in the view from the balcony of our hotel. We'd had too much alcohol to drink with our croissants, and I had dabbled should I say with some kind of stimulant I've long since forgotten the name of. We were intoxicated and the moment I started dancing around the balcony, I was doomed. I don't remember much but I do remember hitting the ground. I also remember Jack lying beside me in a puddle of blood. I knew he was dead before I lost consciousness but there was little time in those few seconds to feel anything.

Waking up beside him in the hospital mortuary was an experience and one I later learned was not Jack's first time. We had a little fun, side by side in our trays and knocking on the wall that separated our freezers. It was quite a game getting out of there and we had rather a peculiar time explaining how we'd both survived…dying. Jack had a way though of making these little problems disappear and soon it was covered up, tucked away from sight as though it never happened. Well, the talk on the way back to the hotel was quite something and the looks of the staff were quite something too. After all, the last time they saw us we were a little less than beautiful. Anyway, it all worked out fine and we spent the rest of the day talking about my portrait and Jack's resurrection.

To some amusement we also learned we weren't _exactly_ the same- that my ageing did not show whereas his did in small ways- the odd grey hair, small wrinkle or two, that sort of thing. After a while though we stopped talking about what made us unique from the world, it started to bore us to tears. We'd both accepted this blessing, or this burden as part of us and we declared it was time to just have fun, to spend time together as though we were two ordinary care-free bachelors.

By the time it was the 1970's, meeting up had become less frequent. It had been eight years since our last encounter and I wondered how long these meetings could really last for. On this occasion we'd met for a drink and one thing led to another as it always did. But after a day spent with Jack, I was anxious to meet someone else.

"Why you in such a hurry anyway?" Jack asked. "It's only six-thirty."

"I promised a friend I'd meet them in town. Care to join us for a drink or two?" I was being polite, I was happy to strike out alone for the night.

Jack rolled over in the bed covers and yawned. "Count me out, have fun though. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave a lot."

He smirked at me one last time before I put my coat on.

"Don't wait up," I said. I think he was already asleep by the time I opened the door.

…

As I walked outside, the chilly evening air hit me. I'd spent much of the last twenty-four hours in a warm hotel room, cuddled up with a man from the 51st century, locked in an embrace that made the world outside seem like it didn't exist. The streets were already dark and deserted and I made my way to an alleyway for a shortcut back to my flat in Mayfair so I could change my clothes.

It was foggy and my vision was clouded but I was used to passing through alleyways and dodging kissing couples and crack addicts and creepy weirdos wandering around in their pyjamas. But there was something else that was strange. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I felt a peculiar sensation pass through me, a presence. I didn't know who it was but someone was following me, I could feel it.

I picked up the pace and made my way to the end of the alleyway but as I reached the end of the dark tunnel- a figure, a man, appeared out of nowhere, crashing into me and sending me flying into the road. I felt my head hit the gravel, scraping the skin from my forehead. I managed to look behind me but there was no-one following. The man who collided with me seemed to have vanished like a phantom in the night and I was greeted by an eerie silence and a surging pain in my body. I could feel the blood trickling down my forehead and I reached to touch it, transferring most of the blood onto my fingers instead. Quite a nasty cut I supposed. Wouldn't take too long to heal obviously but it hadn't started yet so I figured it'd be wise to get out of the road before a car ran into me and I'd have to explain how I'd survived being crushed under the wheels of a vehicle.

I pulled myself to my knees and that was when I heard the most pleasant voice I'd heard in all my life.

"Are you alright?" There was a young woman standing above me but I could barely see her as my eyes were fuzzy and unclear. She helped me to my feet and checked me over. "You're bleeding. Come inside I'll get you cleaned up."

I tried to shake away her kindness. "No, it's fine, I'll be alright in a minute."

"You're bleeding and I want to check that wound."

She sounded determined so I let her lead me toward a building I don't remember ever seeing before. It was dark so I couldn't make out what exactly it was- a residential housing complex, a bed and breakfast, I wasn't certain.

"You're allowed in here?" I asked as she opened the door and dragged me inside.

"No, I'm breaking in. Heard there's a stash of money hidden under one of the beds," she said with sarcasm.

"Did anyone ever tell you sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?"

"No, I've never heard that expression ever before in my entire life!" Sarcasm again.

"Alright, alright," I said. I'd have argued with her further if it wasn't for the fact my head hurt like hell and she promised to make it better. And my wound was taking ages to heal, too long in fact. "So where are we then?"

"I work here."

"Doing what?" I raised an eyebrow at the dark, dank and frankly not very fresh room we found ourselves in. There was suddenly a strong stench of mashed potatoes, meat and gravy wafting in from another room. Cheap dinners if my sense of smell was correct!

"I'm a Carer. This is the 'Willow Brooks Old People's Home."

My heart sank. "Old people?"

She finally turned the light on and I could see her properly. She was wearing an ugly smock top over some plain trousers and her hair flicked out at the sides. Her blue eye shadow seemed to be wearing off on one eye and she looked tired.

She folded her arms. "What's wrong with old people? You could try and not sound so repulsed."

"I'm sorry." I wasn't.

She ignored me and grabbed the first aid kit from the cupboard and placed it on the table. She opened it and took out some items but as she did so she looked at my face and stopped. She was confused.

"That's funny," she said.

"What is?"

"Your face."

I laughed. "Thank you?"

"No, I don't mean your face is funny, I mean your wound, its much smaller than I thought. In fact," she inspected my head, "it seems to have never been there at all." She looked down at the blood on my hands. "How can that be?"

I laughed and waved it off. "Must have been the other chap, the one who knocked into me in quite a hurry. Must have got _his_ blood on me."

"I could have sworn you had a gash on your head."

"In the rush of a moment it's easy to be confused."

She didn't seem to take my excuse easily and looked at me with suspicion. I watched her for a moment and I was struck by her, not in an attracted way, though there was certainly a prettiness there. No, there was something different, something about the eyes, so bright and vivid. Ordinarily a young pretty blonde girl would've turned my head and got me flirting but for some reason I felt like I knew her, that we were connected somehow. Had we met before?

"Have we met before?" I asked.

She placed the plasters and ointments into the first aid kit and put it back into the cupboard. I waited for her response.

"I don't think so. I'm sure I'd have remembered."

"Why thank you."

She laughed. "You certainly think a lot of yourself, don't you? I meant I'm good with faces and yours is an intense one, what with the blue eyes and that black as night hair."

I smiled and made my way toward the door that we had gone into. I pulled the handle. "Are you coming?"

"Excuse me?"

"I thought we could get a coffee. I'll pay, you know to say thank you for…"

"For healing a wound that disappeared mysteriously?"

I laughed nervously.

She hesitated. "I can't leave, I'm working. What was your name again?"

I let out a wide smile. "Dorian Gray."

And as expected she laughed. They all did when they heard it. I played along. "Something you find amusing?"

"Well I'm not much of a literary expert but wasn't that a character in a novel by…oh piss, what was that bloke's name?"

I laughed again. She made me smile and I'm not sure why, she wasn't particularly funny. "His name was Oscar Wilde and I'm imagining Oscar's face at being called a bloke."

"Yeah well whatever. Your parents have it in for you?"

"Possibly. But I don't think that had anything to do with the name."

"You're a weird kid."

I grimaced. "Kid?"

"Sorry, I know you're not a kid but you look very young, don't you?"

"That's true enough."

"I suppose it's a blessing and a curse looking twelve."

I held my hands out in protest. I was utterly offended. "Twelve?" I pulled her to face me, almost like I wanted her to look properly.

She spun away from me. "Yeah young, baby-faced."

"But twelve really?" She was mad, she had to be. I turned her back to look at me, wanting her to see my face for what it was- the gorgeous smooth face of a man who looked around twenty.

She sighed. "Calm down, Dorian. I don't mean twelve in the actual sense, but it's what ya say isn't it? When someone's young lookin', you always say they look twelve. And I have the same problem."

"Oh yes?"

"I'm twenty-six but the residents think I'm barely an adult."

"To them I suppose that's true."

"Still I don't know what it's like to be eighty so I can't judge them for thinking all us young people look alike can I?

I laughed again, she was quite the talker. "And do you have a name or is that classified?"

"Of course I have a name, I'm Caroline."

"I don't remember a Caroline."

She folded her arms. "Because baby-face, we've never met!"

…

The growing sense of the familiar began to creep up on me and as Caroline showed me around the residence, I started to wonder if something peculiar was stirring. There was the strange disappearing man in the alleyway, and then there was this Caroline, so familiar and yet far too sweet to be dangerous. Unless of course that's what she wanted me to think. I didn't know anymore.

She led me into a sort of communal lounge area where some elderly people were seated in armchairs, all facing a large crackling television set which was turned up to full volume and deafening for those of us whose hearing was absolutely perfect.

"Some fascinating lives they've had," Caroline said as we glanced at the old people from our safe distance by the wall, "mostly war time adventures. We hear the stories over and over but you can't imagine what they went through can you?"

I stopped. I was lost for a moment. Images of Captain James Anderson flooded my mind and I could see his muddy face in the trench, could feel his lips upon mine, could hear his voice in my ear. I shook it away. I couldn't think of James any longer, it was too painful.

"True enough. They've seen the worst of humanity. Mind you I've seen a bit of that myself."

"And the best, baby-face. They've seen good things too, brothers in arms, that sort of thing. We've got a variety of residents here, married couples too. John and Phyllis over there are our oldest married couple. They're ninety-seven and ninety-five. Isn't it amazing?"

I glanced at them as she pointed proudly to the motionless couple in their chairs beside one another. They were barely awake, wispy white hair, matching wrinkled faces and liver spots all over. They were for all intents and purposes my contemporaries, younger even.

"Amazing how they still find the courage to go on in that condition."

Caroline shot me a glance that was intense and angry, even more than all her previous expressions of disgust.

She folded up some towels and didn't look at me. "Do you have a fear of growing old or something?"

"Can't say that I have _that_ particular fear. But these places, they give me the creeps."

"Nice!"

"Come on, Caroline. A bunch of wrinklies needing their arses wiped, wheeled about like babies, waiting to die together in one big group whilst much younger people rush about them almost showing off."

And she was giving me that horrified look again.

"You're full of contempt, aren't you?"

"Not for them personally, no, personally I feel sorry for the old devils, but the whole idea is just." I shuddered. "They're miserable, look at them, should have been let go a long time ago. I'm all for euthanasia, voluntary or otherwise."

"That's it!" Caroline said as she pushed me forcefully toward the door. "I think it's best you leave."

"For having an opinion? Lots of people think it you know? I'm just brave enough to say it."

"And some of us are brave enough to see them as people and help them, not think of them as pathetic creatures to be mocked. Human beings, Dorian!"

I wasn't used to be talked to like that. "Are you really throwing me out?"

"That depends on whether you can behave. I invited you in because I thought some of the residents might find you interesting and vice versa, but I'm not sure now I should subject them to any of your so-called wit."

"I…apologise. I'll shut up if you like."

She was about to reply when there was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs behind us and a shadow passed overhead.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Don't know."

"Do the oldies generally race up the stairs like that?"

"Of course they don't! I better go see." Her voice was shaking, almost like this occurrence had never happened before. "You wait here and don't upset anyone."

"I'm coming with you."

…

We ventured slowly up the staircase. One solitary lightbulb seemed the only source of light and it hung rather precariously on the end of a long wire, swaying slightly in a soft breeze that seemed to be coming from one of the rooms upstairs.

"What's up here anyway?" I asked.

Caroline, who was ahead of me on the stairway, turned back to face me. Her eyes weren't quite so alive as they had been earlier.

"Staff rooms and offices mainly," she said.

"And is there meant to be anyone up here now?"

"No."

"Could be a cat," I teased.

She slapped me on the arm. "It's not funny. We both heard footsteps, didn't we?"

We both reached the top of the stairs and peered around the first doorframe we came to. There was nobody there, in fact there wasn't anyone in any of the rooms.

"Must have been another member of staff," I suggested.

"The only way down is the way up, so where have they gone?"

"It's certainly perplexing."

And I'd done it again- managed to get involved in something unusual, something unexplainable.

"You're jinxed," Caroline said. "It's that name, its put a curse on us all."

She was so melodramatic.

"It's probably not anything like a curse, believe me I know these things."

She stopped her wandering of the corridor. "See, that right there, that's not a normal thing to say." She looked at me, her eyes gazing right into mine. It was unnerving. "Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm Dorian Gray."

"Alright but where did you come from?"

"My mother's womb I suspect." I laughed.

She rolled her eyes upwards. "I meant tonight."

"My lover's bed. He didn't want me to go but alas I had a meeting with a friend to which I've completely forgotten to this moment. Oh well, they can stand to be stood up for once."

Caroline sighed. "He?"

"Problem?"

"No, just wondering why _he'd_ want to share his bed with a living breathing curse."

"Touche." She was good at this, almost too good and I felt bad for some reason. I could still see the sweetness in her and normally I would have pitied that, but in her it was such a strength and I admired it. I even wanted to protect her from what I wasn't sure, but I wanted her to be safe.

…

We searched every square inch of the upstairs and found nothing- no rats, no wandering oldies, no slacking staff members, nothing. Caroline searched the rooms twice just to make sure but it was clear nobody had been upstairs, no one human anyway.

…

We gave up the search after a while and Caroline led us back downstairs, back to the communal lounge where the television set was still blaring monstrously. We sat there for a while and it felt like eternity as an old lady, Mrs Jenkins…or Jones or something like that, told me about her twenty-eight grandchildren. Alright, it was seven but for the amount she talked about them it might as well have been twenty-eight. Caroline scurried about to and fro, fetching drinks and cleaning up spills. She moved so fast around the room I almost felt dizzy. When Mrs Jenkins…or Jones had finally grown bored talking about little Michael or Martin's school achievements, I made my escape and pulled Caroline aside.

"I hope you don't mind me leaving you?"

She smiled. "I think I'll live."

I waved goodbye to the residents, showcasing my charm, and then she showed me to the door.

"It was delightful of course," I said.

"Of course." She knew all too well I was lying.

I had taken less than four steps through the doorway and down the path when I turned back for a final wave. That was my mistake because that's when I looked at the upstairs window and that's when I saw it, staring at me, hand on the glass, peering out and pointing in my direction.

Caroline could see something was wrong and she headed toward me but as she did so I was knocked off my feet, tumbling to the ground as something struck me on the head. From the floor and in my dizziness and loss of focus I could see the figure, the broken window and I could feel the blood trickle down my head for the second time that evening, in fact there was something eerily similar about the two injuries I'd sustained that night.

"Dorian!" Was all I heard Caroline say as I blacked out.

…

My eyes flickered and I awoke to find myself back in the room where I'd first arrived. I was slumped rather awkwardly in the chair, my head lulling to one side and as I looked upwards I could see Caroline standing over me, protecting me from harm.

"Seems someone wants me to never leave _this_ place." I managed to squeak the words, my mouth very dry.

"I'm just glad you're alright. You suffered a nasty blow. I put a bandage on but I think it's mostly superficial. You're not very lucky are you?"

She touched my forehead and then she stopped still- that confused look swept over her face again.

"Something wrong?"

"It's just your bandage had blood seeped through and now…"

I chuckled. "It's disappeared? It does that. I'm a good healer."

Caroline, who had been soft spoken up until that point suddenly raised her voice. "Get up! Don't keep laughing and shrugging things off. How come there's no dent in your head and just who threw that rock at you anyway?"

"Glad you remembered that last part," I said. "You do realise that whilst you've been lecturing me, there's some lunatic upstairs lobbing stones at strangers."

Realising I wasn't moving from my seat, she hauled me from my chair. She was using the loud voice again. "There isn't anyone upstairs. I checked again. I don't understand what's going on. Is this your doing?"

"And I knocked _myself_ out I suppose?"

She sighed and muttered under her breath, a few swear words I didn't doubt and I didn't really blame her- after all, a night shift at an old people's home had quickly become night of the damned. She was pacing again, making me dizzy, so I grabbed her hand and offered a reassuring touch.

I looked into her eyes. "Believe me, I have no idea what's happening here but I'm going to help you find out."

We both jumped back startled by the simple sudden ring of a doorbell.

"Expecting visitors?" I asked.

She seemed unsure for a moment and then breathed a sigh of relief as she saw a figure of a woman at the glass.

"Avon calling?" I quipped.

"Oh, thank Christ, it's just my mum coming to pick me up. She's not an Avon lady though, she's just a mum."

I ripped the plaster from my forehead and followed her to the door. "Are you sure it's her? There's a crazed maniac about remember?"

"Of course, I'm sure."

She flung the door open and we were greeted with the sight of Caroline's mother. I froze in shock. I knew this woman, I'd met her once before, more than once, rather intimately in fact. The woman glanced at me and a look of pure hatred swept across her face. That confirmed it alright, she was definitely the same woman. Her eyes widened as she came into the room and inspected me from all angles, making sure I was real.

"Dorian?" she said with a throaty whisper. She clearly hadn't given up the cigarettes.

"Margie?"

"Maggie!"

"Of course, Maggie, long time no see."

I shook her hand but she let it go almost immediately.

"Hold on, have you two met?" Caroline said.

I laughed awkwardly, trying not to glance at Maggie. "You might say that."

But, of course how could I not look at Maggie? It'd been so long and I was curious to know what had changed. She brushed her hair away from her face, the same way I remembered her doing when she'd been young. Now she was middle-aged and her vibrant blonde hair was starting to fade to grey and there were one or two lines appearing around her once glowing eyes. There was still something there but oh she'd been so beautiful in her youth. I'd never seen so many men try to offer her their hearts to which she rejected most. I thankfully was not one of those poor souls.

"Caroline, how do you know this man?" Maggie asked, concern in her voice.

"I could ask you the same thing, Mum."

…

Suffice to say, Caroline didn't quite want to go home from work just yet. Not only was she justifiably concerned about a possible and probable madman stalking the rooms of the old people's lodgings but she was also curious about my mysterious identity. The conversation about the details of how me and her mother were acquainted was bound to be rather awkward.

"We stepped out with each other," Maggie said as the three of us made our way to the kitchen area and sat beside a row of neat tea cups and I tried not to be distracted by the sound of a whistling kettle.

"That might be a tad exaggeration. Going _out_ wasn't normally on the to-do list." They both glared at me, the same disgusted expression- like mother, like daughter.

"You were an item? But Mum, he's so much younger than you. When even was this?"

Maggie glanced at me, in fact she couldn't take her eyes away from my direction. She was examining my face. "He wasn't younger than me then, darling. We were the same age! I think the question here is as to why Dorian doesn't look like he's in his late forties."

Caroline paced back and forth and then ran her hands through her hair. "What are you talking about?" Her voice was shaky and I could see in her eyes all the thoughts scurrying around in her brain. She had many questions.

"Dorian hasn't aged," Maggie said.

"Ah now, I knew this was going to get awkward." I laughed again, nervously of course.

"There was always something odd about him, sinister even," Maggie said aside to Caroline as though I wasn't there.

"It's a little hard to explain," I said. There was no way I was going to tell them the sordid details of my little secret. "Look Maggie, it's been a long time, far too long to worry about how I'm blessed with youthful looks or to be holding a grudge on how we parted. What has it been…twenty-five years…?"

She looked down at the floor. "Twenty-seven."

"Exactly! Twenty-seven long years…wait…twenty-seven?" Then that would mean? I looked at Caroline, twenty-six-year-old Caroline, and her vivid grey-blue eyes stared back at me like I was looking in a bizarre mirror.

Caroline stood back. "What are you both saying?"

Maggie held her daughter's arms. "Exactly what it sounds like, love. Dorian…is your father."

The revelation hit me like a thunderbolt even though I'd suspected this could happen one day. So many women, so little time, or was it so little women, so much time? Either way it was hardly an impossibility. But I hadn't known she was pregnant, hadn't known of Caroline's existence. If I had, I would have…oh who am I trying to fool? If I had known I'd have hardly played doting daddy. I wouldn't have played anything. I wouldn't have been there. Why would I for something I never wanted?

"Dorian's my dad?" Caroline repeated it about three times, her face as white as a sheet. "He can't be. He's baby-face."

I tried to touch Caroline or should I say _my daughter's_ arm but she shook me off. Maggie could barely look at me either.

"I'm sorry." I'd said that a lot recently.

"Is that it?" Maggie said, pointing her finger at me. "We had a few nights of passion and then you sod off without a word and then I find out I'm pregnant and I try to contact you and suddenly there's no trace, like you've vanished off the face of the Earth."

I grabbed Maggie's arms, holding her tight in aggression. "I didn't know there was a baby, you stupid bitch. If I'd known I'd have…"

"Been the loving father she deserved?"

I let Maggie go and I sighed deeply, finding a chair to steady myself against. Caroline was shaking, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She was my daughter! I'd had a child for twenty-six years and I'd never known. I had a child who looked older than me.

I looked at Caroline, _my daughter_ , and no matter how many times I said that, it felt horribly alien. It was hard to even say those simple words.

"I'm sorry, Caroline." I did manage to say that.

And she, the great talker, the sweet girl who cared so much about people- she was speechless and just as afraid as I was.

But one problem at a time is rarely enough in the world of Dorian Gray and so before we'd had the chance for a real family reunion, we were suddenly thrown into darkness, every light in the building switching off in one go. In the circumstances it was quite inconvenient what with a creepy man upstairs trying to kill me- but it was the sounds of terror from the oldies that was the worst part. They didn't know why the lights were out and they were panicked. Of course, you'd think they'd be used to it- it was the 1970's!

Caroline immediately sprung to action, fumbled to the corner of the room, and grabbed a torch from the cupboard, finding a door and heading to the fuse box.

She told her mother to wait but I followed her. "Do you know what you're doing?" I asked.

"I have to try, don't I?"

She simply flicked all the switches and the light returned. It was hardly a catastrophe but someone had tampered with the switches- someone was near us and someone wanted our attention. There was a crash from the room we'd left and then another, and then finally a women's scream.

"Mum!" Caroline shouted as we ran back into the kitchen. The room was in a state of disarray. The once neat row of teacups was now in pieces on the floor and the once annoying whistling kettle was now laying on the ground beside a body. It was Maggie!

She lay groaning gently as blood dripped from a wound on her head, similar to the one I'd sustained not once but twice that evening. Someone had a fetish!

…

Caroline kept Maggie comfortable in the lounge whilst we waited for the ambulance to arrive. She was alive at least, able to move, even look at us but we were unsure of her condition. Caroline sent the elderly residents to their rooms, advising them to stay put until we dealt with what she called 'power issues'. I had to hand it to her, she was certainly calm in a crisis and whereas I thought only of finding out why this thing was stalking us, she thought firstly of the people in her care.

Whilst she worked, I went back to the kitchen to fetch some water. Manoeuvring past broken china, I made my way to the sink but it was then I caught sight of my reflection in a little mirror that hung on the wall. I only caught a glimpse but enough to realise it wasn't my true image. I took a moment to compose myself and then I crept, slowly, almost on tip-toes until I reached the glass. I peered into it. It was worse than I thought. There, looking back at me was an old man, _me_ as an old man- hideously old like my portrait, lined and creased over and over, sunken eye-sockets, skeletal fingers reaching out to touch my bony face. It was horrific. I looked almost dead. I looked as I should have done. My worst nightmare stared back at me. The real Dorian Gray. But the vivid eyes were still so blue. Then the ghastly image flashed away and my real reflection, the young fresh-faced handsome man, returned. Baby-face I was once more.

…

After Maggie was taken to hospital, Caroline and I made our way back up the stairs. I'd had to persuade Caroline to stay behind and visit her mother later, after all, the matter at hand was much more pressing. She of course was overcome with guilt about abandoning her, unlike me who had abandoned her years earlier and never let it worry me a jot.

As expected I could barely get a word out of Caroline, and we stood on the landing, not moving, just waiting in the hallway for something to happen.

I looked at her. "I know I'm just about the last person you'd wish to talk to but isn't it a bit childish under the circumstances to give me the silent treatment?"

She sneered. "Well you should know about being childish seeing as you still think of yourself as some Peter Pan. You're like some sort of man-child who goes around breaking hearts and abandoning people."

"Hold on! I didn't know you existed. I was carefree, living life to the fullest. Your mother knew what she was doing. She found me exciting."

"I still don't understand how you look so young. You're meant to be at least forty-five. That's one hell of a face cream."

"I work out. Look, I promise you I'll tell you everything after we find out who's trying to kill us all."

"How convenient for you."

There was another crash as something fell to the floor in one of the rooms and then another bang and the sound of objects flying across the space. We located the noise and true enough there was a mess of items strewn across the carpet in the office room. A poltergeist maybe? But then I'd seen the figure clear as day at the window.

That was when the door locked behind us, trapping us inside with whatever it was that hunted us like prey. Caroline clung to me as we both made our way back to the door and she fumbled with the handle which of course didn't work. She frantically tried to twist the knob but to no avail and so I grabbed her hand and held on tightly.

"Maybe the thing might talk to us if we ask."

"The _thing_?"

"Just give it a chance," I said, and I stepped forward, raising my arms in a form of surrender. "Show yourself whoever you are."

I had no idea what to expect. I'd seen many strange things in my time and yet every new encounter with the supernatural was always a surprise. A ghostly figure emerged, a reasonably young man, floating above the carpet- its ethereal glow was piercing white, almost blinding.

Caroline gasped, letting out a small yelp. "It's a ghost! Do you think someone who used to live here before it was a nursing home?"

A reasonable assumption had I not recognised the face before me. Oh it was impossible to tell at first but when I look closely beyond the dead worn and battered features, there was a smile I remembered, a crooked grin of someone I had once known well. Edward Bellevue, Ed from the old days, a good friend from my childhood. Inseparable we'd been then, one of my first infatuations truth be told- hands so soft and a voice that made my adolescent legs weaken. The sight of him in a cricket uniform made me giddy. I don't think he had any idea how I felt about him.

"Dorian Gray we meet again at last," Edward said, his voice gravelly, weak and weary. The beautiful voice of the first man to steal my heart had been lost to time.

"Why are you trying to kill us Edward?" I said, feeling both anger and sadness for a man I once cared for. He'd clearly died young and I felt shame that I had not realised.

He shook his head in sorrow. "I couldn't kill you, Dorian, because you can't die, can you?"

Caroline looked at the ghost and then at me, completely bewildered, and I wondered if suddenly the spirit of Jacob Marley was going to appear, carrying a tangle of heavy iron chains.

"So what _do_ you want?" I asked.

It took him a moment to answer after he cleared his throat of a phlegmy cough. Even in death he seemed to have terrible catarrh.

"Your life goes on. You have it all, Dorian. You live life with all its pleasures whilst the rest of us have so little time to embrace the joys."

"I can't change that, Ed. What do you want me to do, make a deal with Lucifer to keep you alive? I can't do that."

Edward's face softened and for the briefest moment he was the young Eddie again, the gentle soul of our Grammar school.

"I just wanted you to understand, wanted to scare you. You don't take anything seriously at all."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea when you died. What happened?"

"It was a boating accident. I had a head injury I never recovered from."

I nodded. "I see. So, you wanted me to have several whacks to prove your point?"

"You sold your soul, Dorian. I don't think I can ever make you see what I see and what I feel. I've watched you and I've been so angry."

Unexpectedly, Caroline sauntered toward the ghost. She was transfixed by him and her pale white hands reached towards him, her fingers almost touching the apparition.

"I'm sorry for what Dorian did," she said softly. Typical. She felt sorry for the ghost that wanted revenge.

I could see she felt empathy for him. Edward must have sensed the goodness in her too because he reached towards her, imitating her movements and placing his ghostly fingers between hers so that they were intertwining.

I looked at my old school friend and it hit me. "You knew that I was Caroline's father, didn't you? That's why you brought me here other than the vicious revenge part?"

There was a momentary twinkle in his brown eyes. "I wanted you to realise your responsibilities, Dorian. Don't you owe it to your daughter?"

I took a glimpse at Caroline but she looked away, clearly not ready and I didn't blame her reluctance.

"But you hurt Maggie." I reminded Edward.

"She'll recover, I suspect, unlike some of your 'victims', Dorian. For every person whose life you grace, another's life is tainted, scarred, ruined. Not all of us have a portrait that can bear the brunt of our choices."

"I'm sorry for what happened to you. Honestly I don't think you realise how much you meant to me at school."

"And you to me," Edward lingered for a moment and sighed, "but you've changed and I realise I can no longer help you, that's clear now."

He was true to his word, I think he'd given up, wandering alone was no way to exist and I think he was tired. His barely visible body faded and faded until at last the room was empty and silent. There was only a sense of what had been. Would he return? Had he gone forever? Something told me that my old friend wasn't coming back.

Caroline raced for the door handle and flung the door open. I grabbed her arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Out of here, away from all this, to see my mum."

I chased after her as she made her way to collect her things from the staff area. She told me to wait in the lounge, so I did.

Inside the room, it was empty, all the residents sent to bed after the so-called power failure. Lucky for them they didn't know the real reason we were clambering about in the dark. Some staff had arrived to relive Caroline of duty and I could hear them chatting upstairs.

Downstairs however it was vacant, eerie and silent. The elderly people had all gone, no-one was sitting in the big comfy armchairs, no-one was facing the crackling television set and no one was falling asleep. I wondered for a moment what it'd have been like if my life had ended up in a nursing home. Suddenly I was picturing myself sitting in one of those chairs, soup dribbling down my chin. Were they braver simply by allowing life to move along in the way it was intended, the way Edward would have wanted?

…

Caroline and I took the bus together to the hospital. I'd not travelled on many buses in my time- not the most sophisticated mode of travel, all sticky underfoot and cigarette butts left on ledges but I was always up for new experiences. It was a crowded vehicle so much to Caroline's reluctance, she was forced to sit with me on the top deck, right at the front looking out of the window at the world whizzing by. For the first few minutes of our journey not one of us muttered a word. She was still mad at me so I supposed I'd have to start the conversation.

"Your mum's tough, she'll be alright."

Caroline's voice suddenly rose in volume. "Is that what you thought when you slept with her and didn't bother calling her again?"

This gained the attention of the other passengers. Many heads turned towards us.

I whispered. "That's not fair. A fling is what it is…a fling. And just so you know, she didn't mind being _flung_."

"And just so _you_ know, she was a brilliant single mother."

"I don't doubt it. Were you happy?"

She shuffled uncomfortably. "Apart from the lack of dad, I'd say yes."

"What did she do for work? When we met I think she was a barmaid? Figure to die for…if I _could_ die."

She grimaced. In one short evening she'd certainly heard many details and too many things about my very complicated existence. "Yeah she's worked in several bars and restaurants. She's had to work many jobs to raise me."

"Very admirable."

"And what do you do, or did?"

I shrugged. "I'm hardly conventional."

"Unemployed then?"

"I'm not unemployed. I've always enough to live on."

"Because you can afford to say that. A poor person out of work is unemployed, a rich person is just a rich person taking a break."

"Point taken."

Awkward silences seemed to follow me everywhere. I had never been so grateful to see the hospital in the distance.

…

Maggie was sitting up in bed when we arrived, her head bandaged and her body wrapped in a blanket. Somebody had bought in some grapes because grapes are the go-to fruit for any kind of health-related issue. Caroline embraced her mother immediately and Maggie's joyful face at seeing her daughter disappeared the instant she saw me coming into her eyeline.

"What are _you_ doing here? You caused all this mess," she said.

"I wanted to make sure Caroline got here safely that's all. I'm not expecting us to play cutesy happy families, in fact maybe I should go now I know you're somewhat on the mend."

"Dorian, before you do, could we talk?" Caroline said.

I hesitated. She didn't seem eager to talk on the bus, did that mean she now wanted to know about my portrait or the ghost of my first crush or all the other things she hadn't found answers to?

"A quick cup of coffee in the canteen. You did promise me a coffee earlier, didn't you?"

"I suppose I did. Lead the way."

"Be careful with him," Maggie said as Caroline assured her she wouldn't be long.

…

I took a long slurp of the coffee from a plastic cup as we sat together in a bog-standard hospital refractory. The drink…was…revolting. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

She stirred her drink with a spoon and then threw it onto the table carelessly. "There's just this tiny little thing, no big deal, just something about you being my immortal father and a ghost following you for revenge."

I laughed. "Oh, that little thing. For what it's worth, the ghost was a surprise to me too. I don't quite understand everything myself either. Edward was dear to me at one time. I honestly didn't mean for that to happen." I had no idea what else I should say- just admit I was glad I had a long-lost daughter, offer her money, apologise for not raising her even though I had no clue of her existence? "It's certainly awkward."

Caroline allowed herself to laugh. "Might be strange if I ever have to tell anyone about you. Tell people my mum's a barmaid and my dad's a book character who looks younger than me."

She clearly used humour to hide what she was really feeling. Oh, I wonder where she inherited that little gift?

"I don't think you should tell anyone about me."

She nodded. She agreed. What could she say? She stared at me and I saw tears fill her eyes. "Will you ever tell anyone about _me_?" she said.

"Well, now, that might be difficult. I have a reputation to uphold."

A tear fell down upon her cheek. I was teasing but I think it was safe to say she took that as my answer. "Will I ever see you again?" she asked.

"I don't know."

I had a feeling deep down that our paths would cross again at some stage. Forces beyond my control always seemed to be pushing me and the closest to me, together. I slowly rose from the chair and grabbed her hand, holding onto it for a few moments. "It was nice meeting you, Caroline."

We held each other's gaze for a few seconds before I let it go.

"Nice meeting you, baby-face," she said.

"Do you mind if I leave you?"

She laughed lightly. "I'll live."

I turned away and didn't look back.

…

Jack was still in bed when I returned to the hotel and I wondered whether I should tell him about what had transpired that night. I chose to keep it secret for an hour or so, just to sort my head out. I wanted to have a good time and forget about Maggie and Edward, Caroline and James. Everyone.

…

Later when the moon was out and most of the city were asleep, I stood by the window with Jack's military coat covering my smaller body, the fabric too long and dragging across the floor.

He laughed. "You look like a flasher in that coat."

"I _feel_ like a flasher."

I suddenly felt uncomfortable and so I reached for my clothes, took off the coat and placed on a pair of briefs and a vest instead.

"What's wrong?" Jack said. "You've been like this since you got back. Thought it was the moody, intense bedroom Dorian at first. Now I'm not sure it's just role-play."

I sat down beside him on the bed. "It's nothing, honestly."

Jack grabbed my hand and pulled me closer to him. He sat behind me and began to massage my shoulders. I let him- enjoying the sensation of tension leaving my body.

"Why don't you unburden yourself just this once?"

And that's what I did. I told Jack everything. That understanding we'd had about having fun and living life as care-free bachelors had subsided for the time being so that we could talk about something important. When we'd finished, I felt a whole lot better, back to my normal self, the real Dorian Gray.

Jack smiled. "Just one bit of advice though, Dorian. Don't leave it like this. Believe me, you don't want to regret it."

…

And that bit of advice was why I found myself three weeks later stood outside the Willow Brook old folk's home watching Caroline. Watching her, wondering, and waiting. But I never went near her. I just watched as she left work, smiling even though she couldn't see me. She would be alright, I could feel it. I observed again for a few short minutes before I turned away.

It was time for a new challenge. Time for a new adventure…and this time alone.


End file.
